There was a flurry-flutter of wings, a dark shape in the air, and suddenly a bird was roosting on Roland’s shoulder. That they had come here, he had no doubt—Susan’s horse, Pylon, and the bad Coffin Hunter’s horse were tethered side by side i He watched the fingers tremble for a moment, then lowered the hand quickly to the table. “Bert,” he said.
Nor was the blank side blank. “Be ready to run,” he whispered. “Marten,” Roland said. The strong Outer Crescent tobacco made him swimmy in the head and raw in the throat, but a cigarette had a way of calming his nerves, and right now his nerves could use some calming.
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